


No Wasted Breaths

by BranwellBronte



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, PTSD, Talking, healing through talking, healing through touch, long talks, m/m friendship, uplifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BranwellBronte/pseuds/BranwellBronte
Summary: A Theon and Jon friendship story. One morning at Dragonstone, Theon tells Jon about a bad dream and being in love with Robb and they both find comfort through talking and sharing both words and touch.





	No Wasted Breaths

            He didn’t wake up screaming, thank the Drowned God and might as well thank the Old Gods and New too, but the ceiling rocked side to side above him as he snapped his eyes open. That swaying was nothing new. It didn’t take much to make him feel dizzy these days and he’d learned to stop reflexively tilting his head back to look up at ceilings. It might have been any day, trying to walk through the great hall of Dragonstone and to the map room while keeping his eyes level, failing, swaying as he gazed upwards, then nearly flinging his head down and locking his eyes on his boots instead.

            So the ceiling moving from side to side was a typical sight. Except when he woke up on his back. Which was not typical, because it never happened.

            His hearing took another moment to return. He wasn’t breathing loudly but his throat was trembling. His fingers were flexing on the blanket, fingernails soundlessly digging in. Time was racing faster than his heartbeat. He had to make a decision, and _fast_.

            _How big of a room do you want?_ Jon waiting, expectantly.

            _Nothing special._

 _It won’t be special, but how big?_ Jon gesturing with a flap of his hand. _This place is full of empty rooms. All sizes, you can pick whichever you want._

_Where do most people sleep?_

_There is no one place. We’re all scattered._

_Which one is closest to the sea?_

_I don’t know. You can have whichever it is, though._

He was taking up too much of Jon’s time. _Alright. Thank you, your Grace._

Jon nodding once, then his back turned and away and across the great hall.

            Theon remembered Jon’s back receding as he realized he had precious few moments left to make the decision. Whatever he decided, Jon had no part in it. It was pointless to bring up a memory of him now. So he made the decision, then rolled over with more speed than he needed to, almost losing his balance. Pushing up on his hands, he knelt in the nest of the blankets and sheets he’d made with his movements. He looked at the sun through the window and from its height he knew he was late. Map room. Tactics. Logistics.

Everyone would be there.

He splashed himself so fiercely that the wash basin tipped dangerously to one side and his wet hair spread dampness against his neck as he righted the bowl. It was supposed to feel good, wasn’t it? Water on his face, on his body? He’d been blessed with it, had it poured directly over his head, had crashed into the sea from a flaming ship, been completely submerged and held fast by softness that gripped so hard. He’d even dipped his toes into the Godswood pool once for a laugh and Robb had smacked him on the shoulder so hard that Theon had bruised. Theon had carefully gazed at the bruise every night, memorizing the colors and contours of the broken blood vessels. Then he watched it fade every day, deflated when finally the paleness of his skin smoothed out again and the bruise disappeared for good. Apart from sparring in Winterfell’s yard and on the grounds, it had been the only time Robb had ever touched him. And now it was the only pain he could remember that had ever formed anything beautiful.

            He didn’t want to think about pain or how water should feel.

            Once he’d toweled off and dressed, he echoed his way down the hall. He couldn’t tell anymore if the echoes were as loud as they seemed or if his hearing was still so heightened that any footsteps, including his own, always made just a little too much noise. The idea of echoes growing and forming some shape, circles maybe, that swallowed him whole and winked him into nothingness might have appealed to him once. These days, he worried the image bordered on self-pity. There was no one to ask, no one he trusted, so it was hard to tell.

            _It won’t be hard._ Theon leaning against a wall and gesturing with his chin toward the gates while Robb nocked an arrow. _Just tell me what you want and I’ll find her and you can meet up with her by the trees. I’ve got it down by now. Your father lets me go for walks. I walk just far enough to see the town in view and there are always four or five of them lazing around, waiting for merchants or whoever to find them so they can take them back to their rooms. One whistle and they all turn their heads to me. There’s one redhead who really likes me. We even have a favorite tree we use to-_

 _Why are you telling me this? You should be lucky I don’t tell Father you bring girls just outside the grounds. I should be telling him right now._ Robb fiddling with the bow and arrow but keeping his head raised and his gaze at the target even.

            _You’re not going to tell him. If you did, he’d know you knew something about what kind of girls they are. Do you want him to know that you know some things that he wouldn’t_ really _want you to know already?_

_Don’t ask me again. You already knew I’d say no. I don’t know why you bothered in the first place._

_Aren’t you bored?_ Theon nodding his chin at the target.

            Robb glancing at him, then away again. _No. I’m never bored. There’s too much to do._

_We’re doing nothing right now._

You’re _doing nothing. I’m practicing._

 _You’ve been practicing shooting since you could stand. Practice something else for once._ _It’s something you’ll never want to stop prac-_

Robb turning swiftly but not sharply, his voice low but not a hiss. _I’m warning you. I’m doing you a kindness by not telling my father because I know how bored you are, how you don’t have any friends but me, but you’re pushing me away very, very quickly right now. No more of this. That’s your last warning._ His head and his body smoothly turned away, arrow nocked, raised, shot. Bow set calmly aside before walking his usual pace out of the yard and back into the castle.

            _Fuck_. Theon turning too but with his palms against the wall, not quite banging his forehead against it but not quite keeping it from touching either. _Of course I knew he’d say no before I asked him. But he didn’t even blush, didn’t shy away at the suggestion. If only he’d done that. It might have been his signal to me. And then I could have said, ‘You don’t even have to leave the castle to practice. I’ll help you learn. We can do it together.’_

 _Then you might finally understand one of_ my _signals for once in your life_.

            Theon could tell that no one was in the map room even before he pressed a palm to the door and it opened with a _crick_. He wasn’t sure why he’d opened it anyway, and the notion unsettled him. He’d immediately sensed no vibrations from the room. Voices didn’t matter. Everyone could be quiet but there would still be a vibration from the room. Even one person being in a room, however small or large, changed the whole air of it. He could always tell when someone was near him. No one was near him right now.

            The unsettled feeling turned to panic in his chest, spidering fingers through it and touching every nerve. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d stumbled because there was no one to see, but he reined in the movement and backed away from the room, closing the door on the sight of the carefully placed pieces on the table, the dragons roaring on the walls.

            Oh. The dragons. He took his hand from the door and listened. There were no voices, but there was movement outside the castle.

            That’s where everyone was.

             He echoed down to the nearest window. The glass was flecked all over with dust but the three dragons laying on the ground outside would have been unmistakable even if he’d been as high up as the sun. The dragons were all calm, hardly moving but for their breathing, spiked backs rising and falling. They must have just eaten. Or maybe they were just calm because their mother was with them. The Dragon Queen was gesturing to all three of them in turn as the others stood in a group about fifteen feet away from her. Some of them had their arms crossed defensively. Anxiously. Jon was the only one with both arms by his side. Not even one hand on his sword.

            The dragons were the least frightening things in the world right now. Theon was equal parts immune to both shock and awe of them. He’d had to pretend to inhale and exhale just a bit too quickly while trying desperately to hide the false reactions the first time he’d seen them as he’d walked up from the beach. It was what everyone would have expected him to do, so he did it. He felt numb to them. He didn’t think it was because he’d gotten used to the image of them as he’d looked at the illustrations over Robb’s shoulder as a boy. Robb and his siblings had flipped furiously through books about the Targaryens as children, stopping at every page inked with a dragon, hesitantly holding their fingers above the drawings as if the dragons might move on the page and shoot fire into the air at any moment.

Theon knew that seeing a drawing of something over and over didn’t make one used to its subject. All of the Stark siblings had known how to draw and they’d spent rainy days sketching endless portraits of each other. Theon had drawn all of the children in turn so as not to look suspiciously fixated on Robb. But when everyone passed their drawings around for everyone else to admire, it had taken every nerve in his body to hand the drawings of Robb away as quickly as he’d been given them. Etched in ink, sometimes well, sometimes only decently, and sometimes very messily, there was no getting used to Robb’s face by looking at endless drawings. There was no way to be immune of shock at his beauty or awe at his determination, stubborn almost to the point of fury, to be the future lord his father had expected him to be.

_I’d be exhausted if I were you._

_Then it’s a good thing_ I’m _me instead._

 _You never have any fun. Do you even know what fun_ is _?_

_Does it matter? I want to be who my father wants me to be. That’s all I want._

_Alright. Fine. Do you want to spar?_

_Another time. Father’s introducing me to the Umbers tonight. I need to wash and dress properly. I’ll see you later._

What a boring life.

And he was the most passionate person Theon had ever known. There was no getting used to that passion. Being in its presence every day for all of Theon’s life would never have been enough. Until the day Theon finally felt wanted by someone else and because of a different kind of passion. Something had finally been expected of him by people he was supposed to feel close to. And so his knees had weakened him far enough to the ground to let the water be poured over his head and then the shame had been the only source he could tap his own passion from because it was endless. If Robb felt betrayed in those days, Theon needed to feel betrayed his entire life. It was the only thing that had kept his feet on the ground as he’d destroyed Robb’s lifeblood. The most dangerous kind of passion, because it gave him nothing he truly wanted in return. It took away, and away, and away.

He didn’t feel nothing as he looked at the dragons. Instead, he felt the gap where the shock and the awe should be. It was easy to feel gaps in himself. It was easy to feel every part of himself that was still wrong and lopsided and might never be straightened out again.

The Dragon Queen had stopped gesturing and now had her arms crossed. Everyone else had uncrossed their arms. Jon was holding his hands behind his back.

When Theon had still had the energy to be annoyed at people, he would have said that Jon Snow was the most annoying person he’d ever met. It wasn’t because Robb had spent so much time with Jon. It wasn’t because he’d been Theon’s competition for Robb, them being brothers. It really wasn’t anything but the fact that Jon, Robb’s equal in everything except parentage, made a true effort to give Theon the time of day.  

_Father said we can have a picnic outside today because it’s so warm. Do you want to come? What? Did Robb tell me to ‘ask you that’? No, why would he have? I’m asking because you should join us, that’s all. It’s a nice day. Why wouldn’t you want to join us?_

_Look, Father brought new books back from town. This one’s not actually for me. It’s not for anybody. None of us got books just especially for us. But you’re from an island and there are mermaids in this book. Do you want to read it after I’m done with it?_

_Robb and I are going to spar for awhile, but then I can shoot with you if you want to play a game. I was really bored earlier and you look bored now, so if you just wait a little while, we can play. Do you want to?_

Insufferable. It would have been so much easier if he’d ignored Theon altogether. Theon couldn’t remember many times when he’d taken Jon up on the “ _do you want to”_ s but Jon had never stopped asking. Someone would have thought he was being the one groomed for lordship. He was being groomed for absolutely nothing except maybe being a good son who brought as much honor as a bastard could bring to his father. But no one would have blinked an eye if he’d only spent time with Robb and his other half-siblings. But he had made a real effort with Theon. It had been so irritating.

Because Theon knew he’d never have done the same in Jon’s place. He wasn’t that kind of person. He wasn’t thoughtful for anyone but himself and for Robb, when he could still have justified saying that.

Everyone was walking back to the castle now, except the Dragon Queen, who was sitting next to the biggest dragon, the black one. Jon was neither at the head of the party nor trailing behind. He was in the middle of the small crowd. Even for a man who now called himself “King in the North,” it seemed typical of him, to let anyone who wanted to pass right by him.

Theon turned from the window and echoed back to his room, but stopped short of the door. There was really nowhere else for him to go, not when he’d missed whatever meeting had just been held by the others. But his breathing threatened to shorten when he thought about sitting alone in his room. He almost bit his lip, a habit he’d cured himself completely of because the feeling of anything sharp on his skin, even his own teeth, was unthinkable. Almost making the gesture now threw his mind off kilter, like the wash basin that he’d tipped about earlier. Everyone would assume he’d still be asleep in his room. They all still gave him a wide berth, the others, not even asking him to attend every meeting in the map room. That was no doubt why no one had called for him to be outside today, either.

Might as well let everyone know he was awake. Maybe there was still something for breakfast. He wasn’t hungry in the slightest but it would give him purpose for the moment. He’d be alone, but he had no excuse to see anyone. Maybe if being alone started to set his heart racing again he could use the nervous energy to apologize to the Dragon Queen for missing her meeting. It wouldn’t be hard to apologize for something so small, not after the other apologies he’d already made.

He echoed down the stairs to the throne room. Other echoes and scuffs of boots and slaps of soles made their way towards him as the party streamed in. He got a few nods along with the tang of salt they all brought in from outside. He nodded back and kept his feet moving.

“Theon. Good morning.”

            Always talking to him, even after all these years.

            Theon halted mid-step. “Your Grace.”

            Jon waited until the others had dispersed out of the hall before he opened his mouth to speak. Was he angry? Disappointed? Nerves twisted in Theon’s stomach and he spoke first. “I missed the meeting. I’m sorry.”

            Jon gave half a laugh, which only doubled Theon’s nerves. He jerked a hand out, half towards Jon and half towards nowhere. “I’m really very sorry, I should have-”

            “No, honestly. You shouldn’t have.” Jon glanced behind him as the last door closed and then turned back. His smile was grim and his eyes matched it. “You were better off sleeping. It wasn’t really a meeting. It was more of a proposal she made, of the plan we should take. I rejected it. We argued, probably not as politely as we should have. Now everyone is upset with either one or both of us. You didn’t need to be there.”

            “Then I really should have been there.”

            Jon raised his eyebrows slightly. “Why is that?”

            Theon shrugged a shoulder, hand still hovering in the air between them before he noticed it and dropped it quickly. “I…well if she’s upset with you, she’d probably have been upset with me too.”

            Jon gave a small shake of his head and gazed up at the ceiling. Theon almost followed his gaze but caught himself before his stomach could lurch. Jon was still looking up as he said, “She has no reason to be upset with you. She’ll take it up with me later. Take it out on me,” he said, frustration darkening his voice. Then he brought his eyes down to Theon’s, sighing. “No. That wasn’t very fair, was it? Trying to predict what she’ll say to me next.” He looked down and to the side. “I’m not doing very well today. I was raising my voice and I almost snapped at her. I thought I was better than that.”

            Jon’s face was clear. Too clear. Theon swallowed. What was the right thing to say back? “I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. No, I know you are. Of course you are.”

            Jon slowly raised his eyes from the ground, then met Theon’s eyes and looked searchingly in them. “You’re not well today, either,” he said quietly.

            Theon froze. He’d not been moving in the first place, but freezing didn’t require him to be in motion. He felt the pulse in his veins slow and his limbs felt made of sludge. When he moved again, it was only with his eyelids, rapid blinks. He didn’t ask himself how Jon knew. It was a pointless question. Theon imagined everyone here could read his face, his posture, his voice. Those who had known him only a few weeks had probably mastered the task. Jon had known him most of his life. Theon imagined his own mind, completely exposed, as a book Jon could rifle through and find the page he needed to know exactly what Theon was feeling. So there was no use hiding it.

            “I didn’t have a good night,” he whispered, voice hardly louder than his breath. “You shouldn’t be burdened with that, though.” He paused a moment. “Your Grace,” he added.

            “You don’t have to call me that.”

            “It’s your title.”

            “It’s not my name. You look unwell, truly. Here, you should sit.” Jon gestured to the steps in front of the roughed carved throne. Theon didn’t move. Jon dropped his arm back to his side. “Well, there are herbs in the kitchen. You should make a tea. It might help you sleep better.”

            Theon didn’t move. His voice felt so small that a pebble could have weighed it down.

            Jon watched him for another moment, then broke his gaze as he turned away. “Well. I hope tonight will be better.”

He was still turning when Theon moved fast, far too fast, and was at Jon’s elbow in one stride. “Is there anything I can do?” His voice was tiny but he could hear the pleading in it. “To help you? Anything?” Their elbows were right next to each other, too close for comfort, he knew that, but the air felt too thick for him to move back or forward or any direction at all.

Jon saw the desperation in his eyes. Theon knew that too. He was becoming reckless.

 _He was as reckless as they come_. He’d overheard someone here say that when they thought he was far enough away, not realizing his ears were sharpened for every word despite each departing step. _Even when he wasn’t killing children or old men, they say he hollered at everyone in sight, screamed and raged and never sat still for a moment. He’s quiet now, yes, but only because that man took a knife to him and-_

“I don’t want to be alone right now. I can’t. Can I do something for you? Anything. Just let me stay near you.” He knew those words were only the trickle of what he wanted to say. The whole gush was still inside him but it could burst at any moment. Then he’d beg. By all the gods, he’d beg if he had to. The idea of begging Jon Snow of anything would have been excruciating when he was younger. The idea of being alone now cast a bigger cloud than the shame of begging, and of all the other shame that was always tied like rope around his heart every moment of the day.

Jon stared at him for a moment, then glanced behind him again. There was no one walking towards the hall, no one coming up the walkway, not the Dragon Queen, not anyone. Theon could have told him that, but he was hanging too tightly on Jon’s answer. If he said no, then it was back to Theon’s room. He couldn’t sit on the bed, but maybe the windowsill-

“Sit, then.” Jon backed away from Theon’s elbow and took a seat on the bottom step of the stairs. “Sit down.”

Theon gritted himself and pushed against the thickness of the air and moved the sludge of his legs until he was next to Jon on the step. He put almost two arms lengths in between them to compensate for being at Jon’s elbow. He could feel Jon watching him through the space.

“You said you had a bad night. A bad dream?”

“Yes.” He said the word as simply as he would have if he’d been asked if he wanted the butter passed to him. If he was going to be reckless now, the only way to do it was at full speed. “A nightmare.” He finally said the word and the pebble dropped off his voice and he could hear himself speak. “The worst I’ve ever had.”

He felt Jon move his head away at this. Theon Greyjoy having nightmares? Either about what he’d done or what had happened to him? It suddenly felt like a laughable thing to say and he felt the pebble settling down again until he felt Jon look his way again and speak softly.

“You could tell me about it, or I could just say something. Whichever you want.”

Theon folded his hands in his lap, unfolded them, and then folded them again. “I don’t want to ask you for advice. It’s not your job to give me any.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can give you advice. I can’t tell you how to only have good dreams, or no dreams. Everyone says, ‘We all have bad dreams, don’t get worked up over them.’ But that’s not really comforting, is it? I never found that comforting. I can’t even remember who said that to me for the first time. Probably someone in the yard at Winterfell who saw me brooding one morning and tried to act like my father and give me some bit of wisdom. It didn’t work. Dreaming is…it’s always lonely, I think. You do it alone. You feel it alone. Even if you wake up next to someone. A lover, a brother, sister, friend, anyone. If you’re like me, that doesn’t matter. The dream is yours alone. And when it’s a bad dream, if you decide to tell someone, you have to relive it. And so you can’t win. You’re still alone. Maybe. I don’t know. You might feel differently. You don’t have to answer that.”

“No.”

“That’s alright.”

“No, I mean.” Theon watched his hands. They didn’t tremble, but he felt as though he could see the blood coursing through them like rapids in a stream. “I want to answer. If you’ll listen.” A hit of panic at that, the rapids rushing over sharp rocks. “But that’s…that’s asking a lot.” He bowed his head and a lock of hair fell over his eye but he didn’t trust himself to move it without the rapids bursting the dam of all the unsaid words.

“It’s not asking that much.” Jon scraped his boots softly as he turned. “Do you think talking to me at all is a waste of my time, though?”

“Yes.” The other words still trembling behind the dam.

Jon nodded. “I understand. When you first came here, I would have told you that you did waste my time. That every moment I laid eyes on you was a moment I’ll never have with anyone I’ve lost. That I could burn the whole world for putting you in my sight when I could have seen my brothers instead. But they’re not here and you are. And so I see you instead. And you’ll never understand how much you’ve hurt me. I could have smashed your face against the cliff when I saw you and gladly worn your blood on my clothes. I’ve killed people. I could have killed you too. I wanted to. Yes, I really wanted to. You’ll never forgive yourself for anything you’ve done, will you?”

Theon’s mind was numb to the point of indifference at the image of his blood all over the rocks and bathing Jon’s hands. Of death finally taking him because Jon commanded it to. There was nothing shocking in it. Nothing he hadn’t already imagined could have happened a thousand times before. Maybe the dam wouldn’t break after all. “No. I won’t. You could still hurt me and I could make no argument against it.”

He wasn’t as numb as he thought. He startled like an animal that’d just realized it was being hunted when Jon said, “I’m never going to hurt you, Theon. I wanted to. I did. But I won’t. I can’t hurt someone who told me to my face that they wanted to hurt me and now they’ll carry that shame all their life. ‘Carry’ isn’t even a big enough word, is it? You don’t carry it. It carries you. I learned that the hard way, too. Did I ever do something on the scale of what you did to me, to my family? No. But I was merciless to the people that killed me. My vows dictated that I feel no need for mercy. But I still feel sick when I think about how easy it would have been to break those vows, to stop living by a code other people created. We both followed codes, didn’t we? Yours was what you thought a good son should do for his family. We both failed in trusting our own senses of shame until after all the damage was done. It’s what makes us feel shame that tells us everything we need to know about ourselves, isn’t it? So why would I hurt you back, Theon? Do I need more shame? Is it worth it to get angry about that shame and take it out on someone else? On you, who feels even more than me?”

Theon had balled his fists and had to lay his hands out flat on his thighs before his nails pressed into his palms and he felt any pain. He wasn’t crying, but he never cried anymore. Whatever well that tears ran from had dried inside him long before this. When Jon had first started speaking, he’d felt shock crack apart inside him like a boulder smashing down a mountain. But instead of shaking his sense of his soul apart, the crumbling from the boulder had found ways into gaps that he’d felt for so long. The sudden clarity that crystallized inside him was unlike anything he’d known in his broken view of himself. The weight of the shame was still heavy as any hell but he found himself folding a corner of it back from his eyes and seeing Jon as both a body next to him and someone else one on a treacherous path, trying to find any kind of rest that welcomed him across its doorstep. Theon was traveling by himself, but so was Jon. Did that mean they were actually traveling together?

When he tried to speak, his voice was throatier than usual but the words came as he bid them squeeze from behind the dam. “Then I’m not wasting your time.”

“No.”

“I’m not a waste of time.”

“No.” Jon moved sideways and closed one of the arm-length spaces between them.

Theon almost held the next words back because he knew where they’d lead. He was sure that so many of his gaps were always on display, but this wasn’t a gap. It was a chaos inside him. A chaos of loss. But there was nothing left to lose. So he smashed the dam for good and said the words. “There are no wasted breaths.”

He felt Jon nod. “That’s a good way to put it.”

“It’s something I said to Robb once. We were sparring, not for fun, but for actual training. He was off his game that day and I kept beating him. When I beat him the last time, he said, ‘That was a waste of breath.’ He looked so exhausted and so upset that I could only think about wanting to hold him. And so he threw me off my own game and I said without thinking that there was no such thing as wasted breaths when we were together. And he looked at me, right at me, and said, ‘I know you’re right. I’m only frustrated. I’ll do better tomorrow.’ And I didn’t understand right away. I thought for a moment, just one, that he meant it the way I meant it. That he was finally agreeing that we belonged together and he was frustrated we couldn’t be. At least not openly. And then I tried to parse, ‘I’ll do better tomorrow,’ but he was already walking away and I almost sobbed because my hopes had gone sky high for just a moment and they crashed down so hard when I realized he was only talking about sword training. Not about being with me. And I felt like a waste then. Looking back, it all seems like so much self-pity. We all have something we want but never get. He was all I wanted. Did you know that? You probably did.” He looked over at Jon to see the confirmation in his eyes. Speaking about Robb would never close the jagged hole of chaotic loss, but why not tell Jon everything? The chaos was excruciating, but maybe this wasn’t a bad kind of recklessness, if it meant just one other person knew it existed…

But Jon was looking at Theon’s hands twisted in his lap, not his face.  “No, actually. I didn’t know that.” His eyes were slightly widened and he didn’t move them for another moment. “No, I never even guessed. I think you overestimate how easy you were to read. You never seemed interested in very much except training and sneaking off to see the girls. Yes, that was easy to figure out. But if you tried to hide how you felt about him, you did a good job.”

“I wish I hadn’t.” The desperation tinging his words was the least of his cares. There was only one way forward and his words led him down it. “I wish someone had known. Even if not Robb. It would have been so much easier. You were the one I could have told.” He caught Jon’s eye finally. “I could have told you. You were always at me to do something with you and the others. The only person there who talked to me without me talking to them first.”

Jon sat up straighter and cleared his throat before meeting Theon’s eyes again. They were still wide but free of judgement. “That’s an enormous thing to tell someone. I’m not surprised you didn’t tell anyone, let alone me.” Jon’s gaze wavered suddenly and he broke it. “I don’t know that I could have helped you.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you for help. I hope not, anyway. Nothing you said would have made it hurt less. But then the loneliness might not have drowned me. I was never afraid of drowning, except in the emptiness of the space I knew he’d never want to fill in me.” He knew his face was red. He put his fingers to his forehead and they came away heated and with a slight sheen of sweat. But the fever only burned him onwards and the words kept falling out and surrounding both of them like piles of autumn leaves. “Reckless, isn’t that what someone called me? I did a reckless thing this morning too. I held onto the memory of a nightmare I had. I woke up just on the point of forgetting it. I had to make a decision, whether to let it slip away and forget it or grab onto it and remember. I could have let it slip away. But I didn’t. I gathered up everything I could remember in that one second because I didn’t want to always wonder what it was that had scared me. I even thought maybe I’d tell someone one day. I didn’t expect it to be today.”

When he looked at Jon again, he realized they were less than an arms length away now. Had he moved, or had Jon? Whoever it had been, Theon moved closer now. “Can I tell you?”

“Yes.” Their elbows were almost touching again but Jon didn’t pull away. “What happened?”

He blinked once and the memory unfurled completely in that second and tracked across his mind like the moving sky. “I was alone in the world. There was no one else there.”

“No one? Where did everyone go?”

“That’s the thing. There never _had_ been anyone. I was the only person who had ever existed. I had no memories of anyone because that was impossible. Robb had never existed. You hadn’t. Only I was in the world and so it didn’t feel like a world, because a world is full of things, even if it’s emptiness, because that’s a thing too. But there was no emptiness because there wasn’t anything that could have existed. Just me. And maybe I could have coped with that. But there was something else, too.”

“What was it?”

“I wasn’t trapped. I could move and I could think. If I’d been trapped, maybe I could have reasoned that I was being punished. But even though there was nowhere to go, I walked, and kept walking, but no one had ever existed, and no matter how far I went, there was still nothing. And that’s the worst part. Because if someone had ever existed, just someone, anyone, Robb or you or anyone, then I could have missed someone. But there was no one to miss. I woke up terrified of being alone. But I kept the dream. I almost didn’t. But at the last moment before it slipped away, I kept it. It was a nightmare, but I needed it. I need always to remind myself that I don’t ever want to live this dream. I don’t ever want to become so self-pitying that I want to give in to that dream and pretend I’m the only person who’s ever lived. Because then there would have been no one to hurt. I need to feel all the stains on my soul to be able to do better by everyone’s that’s left, to everyone I have yet to meet. I was so scared. It’s so tempting sometimes, to want to forget. But I don’t want to be someone who lets himself forget. It’s about the only good thing I feel like I can still say about myself.”

He remembered to close his eyes before his head tilted up. He felt like he’d tunneled through enough of the shame to reach a door that opened far enough for Jon to hear his heart beat. Reckless. But the only way forward.

He jerked his head back down as Jon stirred slightly. “So you thought your mind was trying to tell you to forget everything by giving you that nightmare?”

“Yes.”

“And you chose not to forget.”

“Yes. But I’m still shaken. I’m still a wreck over it.”

“You can be a wreck and still know you did the right thing, too. Listen.” Jon turned and another inch closed between them. “I’m not going to tell you to be proud or that you were brave. I believe you were, but I’m not going to tell you to feel those things, because I don’t feel them when people say them of me. But I will tell you that I’m glad you told me, and that you felt safe enough to tell me.”

Theon shook his head. “We’re only sitting here because you stopped me earlier.”

“We’re only sitting here because you asked to stay near me. I probably wouldn’t have spoken to you for the whole rest of the day if you hadn’t. You made the first move. I would make it with you when I was younger, but you made it with me today.”

Theon looked back at his hands. “You really tried so hard. I didn’t deserve it even then. I really thought you hated me for awhile before you left for the Wall.”

“I didn’t like you at all, that’s true. You were the most arrogant person and you were downright cruel sometimes. It was only a long time after you disappeared and I assumed I’d never see you again that it occurred to me that you lived in fragments that I never had to. You were on such shaky ground. I had a good home. You had two places you’d lived but you had no real home. You were angry because you were adrift.”

“Did that excuse me?”

“No.”

“Good. It shouldn’t have.”

“But it did make me want to talk to you again. Even when I wanted to kill you. Which you already know, so I’m going to try to stop saying it. I’m sorry about your nightmare. I’m sorry that’s what it took to make us talk again. But I’m glad you chose to remember it. I hope you believe you made the right choice. I think that’s about all I can give you right now.”

Theon let the door on his heart beat swing slowly shut. He shouldn’t have expected it to stay open for much longer. Jon had always needed to leave at some point. He nodded. “Thank you, then. That’s more than enough.”

Jon glanced toward the window and shrugged. “We can keep talking, if you want. It’s early yet. I just spent an hour being King out there. That already feels like enough for the day.” He leaned back on his hands and breathed out deeply. “I shouldn’t be thinking that. My thoughts keep going backwards. Can I ask you something?”

Theon carefully turned around. “Yes.”

Jon lifted his chin and then hesitated. The hesitation told Theon everything. He closed his eyes and grimaced, but maybe he could free more words into the world. He opened the door again and nodded. “Yes,” he said softly. “You can ask about Robb.”

“You don’t have to answer.”

“Ask me.”

“It’s selfish but…did he mention me much? When he was King?”

“Yes. Sometimes I felt like he didn’t talk about anything _but_ you. He wished you were with him so you could be his right hand. That’s what he said. ‘Right hand.’ Not ‘hand of the king.’ He didn’t want to copy any custom of the court at King’s Landing. He wanted your advice on everything. And he couldn’t have it, so he’d pace around his tent and try to think of your answers. It was the only time I ever saw him pace. He couldn’t stand still. I asked him where he was once, in his mind. It was always, ‘On top of the Wall.’”

“On _top_ of it?”

“Yes. I think he couldn’t imagine you inside any building once you left. So you were always on top, looking over, making plans to save the realm.”

“Did you get tired of hearing my name all the time?”

“No. I had expected as much. You were his best friend as well as his brother. Of course he was going to talk about you and miss you more than anyone. He cried…he cried when you left.”

“He cried?” Jon repeated it quietly. “He never cried. Not ever.”

“I know. I was the only one with him. We were in the Godswood and he just started crying into his arm. But lords don’t cry, so he stopped as soon as he’d started.”

Jon leaned forward again and clasped his hands. He tapped one boot on the floor. “’Lords don’t cry.’ Who’s allowed to cry, then? I cry. Lots of nights here I cry. I worry I made a mistake accepting this title. I’m so afraid I’ll break down from the pressure and everyone will see me fail. It’s like a sickness. I put up as good a front as I can. Do I do a good job?”

Theon watched him carefully. “Most of the time, yes.”

Jon’s voice held no anger, no frustration. “When do I slip?”

“When you say things like ‘I thought I was better than that.’ You clear your face completely. It’s because you try so hard to hide all your doubts that I can see them. I…I had to become good at reading faces, at people, when…when I wasn’t myself. I still had to be able to prepare for…whatever happened next.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you back there. We should stop.”

“I just want to say that it’s not personal. I do it to everyone, not just you. You do give off a lot of steel. And then some weariness. And then steel again.”

“I double down on the steel after I cry. If you see me especially steely, it’s probably because I cried the night before.”

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you telling me this? I know we said we’d talk more but…you’re telling me a lot of private things.”

Jon swallowed, the first time Theon had seen him do so. It was disconcerting and Theon cringed inwardly. “You don’t have to…”

“Because I’m tired of being vulnerable alone. I understand why you needed to tell someone your dream. I’ve needed to tell someone all of this since the first night I cried by myself. I didn’t think I’d be telling you. But now it doesn’t seem so surprising. You’re my link to the past, yes, but you’re part of my future too, Theon. I want you to be here when everything’s over. I want to still know you. You’ll be there, won’t you? You’re still moving forward, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am. I just. I do move, although I don’t do it very fast.”

“It doesn’t have to be fast.”

“It’s not.”

“It doesn’t matter. Are you breathing?”

“Yes.”

“No wasted breath then, right?”

Theon breathed in a little raggedly, but it was still breath. “Not wasted. Gods, I wish I’d told him.”

“I’m sorry I never noticed. Maybe I could have helped you after all.”

“No. I wouldn’t have let you.”

“When did you fall in love with him, if I can ask?”

“I think when you both were sixteen. I wouldn’t have called it love, then. Just an overwhelming desire to go to bed with him. But then I realized I could see the two of us side by side for the rest of our lives. I realized I never wanted to leave Winterfell because then I wouldn’t see him every day. The idea of not seeing him every day was unthinkable. I always expected I’d leave some day when your father arranged a marriage for me. I was prepared for it for a very long time. I wanted it, even, because it would have made me feel like I had a life of my own for once, even if the bride had been chosen for me. And then I realized it was the last thing in the world that I wanted. I started to live in fear of your father arranging a marriage for me. It kept me up at night sometimes, my heart wouldn’t stop thudding, it was so painful. I wanted to go to Robb’s room and only talk to him. Ask him to put in a word with your father that it was better I stayed on as his advisor when he became Lord, a councilman, something, _anything_. If your father had told me he’d brokered a marriage for me, I would have begged him to break it and let me stay at Winterfell. I know I would have. And the idea of begging your father for anything would have made me want to drown myself at any other time. But I was ready to beg. And so I knew I really loved Robb. I sent him so many signals over the years. He never picked up on them. I think he would have told me if he had. He was honest to a fault. I don’t have to tell you that. He would have told me I had no chance. It was a blow I would have expected to receive. One I’d have already made the armor for, although he still would have pierced right through it. But I still wish I’d told him.”

            Theon fell silent and looked at his hands again. He could feel the blood pumping, almost jolting, through them without needing to imagine it. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jon fold his own hands, look down, and then look up again. When Jon spoke again, his voice was serious, but there was a gentleness in it that kept Theon’s hands from trembling.

            “Don’t you think it counts for something that you finally told someone, even if it was just me?”

            Theon checked his hands. No trembling. He checked his heartbeat. A little fast, but not racing. The recklessness had calmed him, he realized. He was going forward because he wanted to. He raised his face, then lifted his chin. His voice was smoother than he’d expected, but maybe he was done expecting himself to say _I don’t know_ and _Maybe_ in a hesitant voice, giving a firm answer a wide berth. That was becoming more exhausting than unwrapping another layer from his heart. He let the sound of it beat its way to Jon. “Yes, actually. It does count. I didn’t hide, for once in my life.”

            “You’re moving.”

            “I’m moving.” He glanced at the sun again. It was casting shadows further away from the throne steps. It was probably time, but he’d journeyed far. Theon nodded and looked at Jon. “You have to go.”

            “I should. I’ll see you at dinner, if you feel like it. Actually – no. There’s one other thing that maybe I can give back to you. It’s not much, but it’s what Robb would do when I had bad dreams. Can I?” Jon gestured to the last few inches that separated them. Theon flicked his eyes at them, then at Jon’s. Why not close the space and be elbow to elbow again? A good way to wrap up a talk, to bring it back in a circle. He nodded.

Jon pushed himself over and gently laid his arm around Theon, fingers softly curling over his shoulder. Then he lowered his head and pressed his temple to Theon’s.

Theon couldn’t remember a time when he’d been comforted by anyone in the Stark family. Probably it had never happened. He’d have taken a sword wound anywhere on his body, and then another one, to have held Robb just once, even just in that one moment in the Godswood when Robb had cried. For Jon to put his arm around Theon like Robb had put his around Jon was like a blessing he didn’t know he’d been praying for.

He pressed his temple back against Jon’s and moved his arm slowly up around Jon’s back. Jon breathed softly and gently squeezed and released Theon’s shoulder. His body was warm against Theon’s but Theon felt the heat of his own fever dimming. He inhaled shakily but more strongly than he would have guessed. Maybe it really was time to stop guessing and start believing that anything, even breathing steadily, was possible.

Jon shifted his face and spoke into Theon’s ear. “We can do this even when you don’t have nightmares. Do you feel less alone?”

“Yes.”

“I do too.” He leaned cheek back against Theon’s and they sat as the sun wandered lazily by out the window.

Theon’s eyes had closed around the time his breathing had synced with Jon’s but they flew open a minute before the Dragon Queen entered the hall. He dropped his hand from Jon’s back and moved to sit upright. “She’s coming.”

Jon gently pulled Theon back against him and laid his chin on his shoulder. “Let her. I don’t care.”

The Dragon Queen’s dress fluttered and her pale hair settled around her shoulders as she stopped and stared at the pair of them on the stairs. Theon didn’t need to look in her eyes to feel her unsettled shock, but he looked in them anyway. She was watching Jon with fixed eyes. He knew that Jon wasn’t staring her down, wasn’t challenging her. He hadn’t stiffened, hadn’t moved a hairs breadth. Theon looked out of the corners of his eyes. Jon was only looking calmly at the Dragon Queen as if to say, “Yes, you’ve seen us. Now you can do whatever you want.”

She flicked her eyes to Theon’s. She was utterly confused and really quite perturbed, although she’d smoothed her face over in a moment. Theon could still sense how they’d unbalanced her. The King in the North with his arm around the Turncloak, whom he had seemed to barely tolerate before now. What did that suggest about a King and his notions of forgiveness?

But Jon was a man of his word. He clearly didn’t care what she would do with this new knowledge. He leaned his temple back against Theon’s and closed his eyes. Theon held the Dragon Queen’s eyes until she gave him one last unsettled look that she tried to hide behind an uncaring mask. Theon could almost hear the wheels of calculations turning in her mind as she broke their gaze and continued her walk through the hall.

Even when she’d disappeared up the stairs, Jon kept their heads close together. “I’m done with being judged over how I treat you. How I treat myself. I want you to know that.”

Theon felt out the gaps in his soul. The chasm of Robb was still lancing pain through him. It always would. But the gap of friendship that he once thought was unfillable had had new water poured into it. He knew the water would feel warm and sustaining even when he broke apart from Jon. He felt suddenly like he’d found a hearth on the side of the road, one that burned away the rot from the gap called trust. “I do know it.”

“I’m glad. I’ll see you at dinner later, if you’re hungry.”

“I’ll be there.”

“My door is open if you ever want to sit.”

“Mine is too.”

“Then I’ll see you soon. Keep breathing, would you?”

 Recklessness made him courageous. Theon made the decision. “I will.”


End file.
